By Krystal Sieben 
Anxiety—I wish I didn’t have it. I wish no one did.
It’s hard to explain it to those lucky enough not to have it. As I try to recall my first anxious thought, when it started, or what it feels like for those unfamiliar, all I can offer is my experiences, old and new, and maybe a recent example of something that helped me change my thinking.
A difficult part of anxiety is feeling caught off guard. I always have an idea of how things will go, and when something shakes that plan (especially if it’s negative), it feels like an earthquake.
As a child, I remember being excited for my mom to come home from my first-grade parent/teacher conferences. I knew I always scored high on all my work and I followed the rules. When my mom came in to tell me about the conference, she told me my teacher had said, “At recess, Krystal has her hands on her hips and tells everyone what to do.” This teacher probably also said a million great things, and my mom told me the story with a smile, probably thinking, as my teacher had, that the story was cute. But I was devastated. Telling everyone what to do?!? I don’t do that. My anxiety told me my teacher thought I was a brat.
When I was a first-time mom, I had horrible anxiety. Anxiety that something was off. Anxiety that my firstborn would get sick. Anxiety because his birth was scary. Three years later when he was given an autism diagnosis, my anxiety told me it was right all along. This moment cemented anxiety’s place in my mind. Anxiety from this point forward would drive the ship. If anxiety was right about this, it must be right about everything. If anxiety was right about this, anxiety equalled mother’s intuition, and I needed to trust it.
Anxiety told me I had the greatest mother’s intuition out there and that any worries appearing in my mind weren’t worries, they were premonitions I needed to trust, no matter the cost.
But here’s the thing: there were many, many mothering moments my anxiety was wrong about. Fears about kindergarten, riding a bike, friends, taking an airplane, getting shots at the doctor—I had anxiety about all these things, and they went fine. But I chose to ignore that and still let anxiety drive my decisions and drive me crazy. Until one day, an opportunity came, but anxiety almost took it from me.
My daughter rides horses, and a horse was gifted to us by the barn where she takes lessons. He was a former jumping horse with an injury, and my trainer thought he would be a good fit for us. I met and loved him. I trust our trainer completely—she has known my daughter since she was two—and she knows me and my anxiety.
But shortly after deciding to adopt him, my anxiety started to talk me out of it. Horrible images entered my mind of him going crazy, kicking my daughter, bucking me off, and various other scary thoughts.
Something told me I should talk to my husband, but I was afraid he’d tell me I was right. I explained the things anxiety makes me think, how it feels like mother’s intuition or a premonition . . . even though rationally, I know it isn’t. And I felt like my husband understood it for the first time.
After prayer and reflection, I decided to say no to my anxiety. Thank you for trying to keep me safe, anxiety. I know you are looking out for me, anxiety. But, on this . . . no. On this, you aren’t right.
I just came home from a lovely morning with our new horse. He walked gently. He ate treats nicely. He helps me. My daughter says he is her favorite horse.
Does this mean he won’t ever spook or buck or kick or step on someone’s toe or die suddenly or any other terrible thing? No. But I don’t want anxiety to keep me or my daughter from this good thing. We love this. We love him. He’s helped me learn my anxiety isn’t always right. If I had listened to anxiety instead of my heart, I would have missed out.
And if you are a fellow mom with anxiety, I am rooting for you to know this too.
by Kelley Spencer 
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